


Flowers for the Lady

by runawayballista



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-01 00:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawayballista/pseuds/runawayballista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erk can't find even a single moment of peace to himself -- not when Serra keeps coming around, asking for favors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers for the Lady

The wind whistled gently through the grass, bringing the dusky scent of blooming flowers to Erk’s nose. Here, sitting at the edge of the army camp, was somewhat more relaxing than participating in the noisy mealtimes that the rest of the army shared. Here he could have a quiet meal, his plate in his lap and a book at his side. Yes, that was much more preferable. It was so hard to find a moment of relaxation with all the fuss lately. This was his small peace, one he felt he deserved after a hard day’s battle. He smiled slightly to himself.

“Erk! _There_ you are!”

The shrill cry rent the air, so much harsher than the gentle whispers of the breeze. Erk grimaced, and considered throwing his hood up over his head, but it was already too late. He settled instead for lowering his face into his palms.

It was amazing how loudly a girl as small as Serra could stomp on hushed grass, and in the soft shoes of a cleric at that. Slender hands on hips, she bent over Erk and frowned. “Hey! Erk! Didn’t you hear me?”

“Everyone hears you, Serra. All the time.”

She straightened up, tossing one pigtail over her shoulder. “As it should be! How could anyone not heed my dulcet tones? After all, listening to the sweet sound of my voice is like listening to a song! Even the finest bards in all of Elibe could not produce such perfection!”

It was more like listening to an off-key trumpet sound its own fanfare, in Erk’s opinion. He let out a small sigh. “Can I help you, Serra?”

“Oh, how sweet, Erk!” she gushed, a hand to her breast. “Always thinking of what you can do for me…of course, it’s no small wonder you’re smitten with my majestic visage! Ah, my heart, it sighs!” She paused to let out a dramatic sigh herself, and Erk wondered for a moment if there would, at some point, be an end to her vain soliloquy, but before he could interrupt, she just as soon began to speak again. “Come to think of it, Erk, I know of a favor you could do for me…of course, I don’t know if you’re the most well-suited to the task. I mean, you’re kind of…” She wrinkled her little button nose. “Gloomy! You know what I mean? But then, I suppose a man only grows from his challenges…”

Erk waited for her to arrive in the vicinity of a point with growing impatience.

“Hmm. But I wonder…maybe you should learn to smile first.” She pursed her lips at him, studying his face. “Mmm…yes. Erk, you definitely need to learn to smile!”

“Is that the favor you’re asking?” Erk asked, exasperated. “You want me to _smile more_?”

“Heavens, no! Although it might do you some good,” she added. “I want you to pick me some flowers! But if you keep on scowling at everything like that, all the flowers will just wilt at the sight of you. How horrendous!”

Erk placed two fingers between his eyes and applied gentle pressure. He felt a headache coming on. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to keep his jaw from tightening, “but you want me to pick you _flowers_?”

“Why, yes!” Serra exclaimed. “A fine lady such as myself should always be surrounded by things of beauty, naturally. But this army camp is dingy and dirty and smelly! Of course, my presence here is required, and should I leave, all the men in camp would surely weep with sadness night after night…but I can’t stand all the dirt and grime! I need something to brighten up my tent. And flowers grow wild in the grass here, don’t they?” She beamed at Erk. “So you need to pick some for me, Erk!”

“Why don’t you just pick them yourself?” He couldn’t quite keep the grumble out of his voice, but if Serra noticed, she failed to comment on it.

“Don’t be silly, Erk! A distinguished lady like _me_ can’t possibly risk getting her dainty hands dirty doing such a thing.” Serra smiled at him in a manner she must have thought sweet. She made a shooing motion with both hands. “Come on, up you get! Don’t waste all your time with your nose in those dusty old books when you could be winning my favor!”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Erk gestured to his book, but she only snapped it shut impatiently. He made a disgruntled noise. “Great — now you’ve lost my place. Anyway, what do I get out of wasting my time pulling weeds out of the ground for you?”

“Oh, please, Erk! Any man captivated by my charm would positively _jump_ at the chance to do even the pettiest of favors for me. Besides,” she added with a devilish grin, wagging one finger in his face, “if you find some really pretty ones…I might even give you a kiss — the greatest prize of all!”

Despite himself, Erk felt a heat rise to his cheeks, and he prayed silently that it didn’t show in his color. “Fine, I’ll — I’ll do it, if it’ll get you to stop yammering at me,” he said stiffly, rising to his feet. He dusted his cape off, and bent to retrieve the book that Serra had so hastily closed.

“Ah! Not yet!” Serra reached for his face, and before he could move, she had firmly grasped his cheeks in her fingers. “I told you, Erk — you have to _smile_!”

She pinched at his face and pulled at it in attempt to duplicate what a smile might possibly look like on Erk. When she let go, he held the awkward expression, if only to humor her. Serra pursed her lips and studied his face as a sculptor might a work of art, tapping a finger to her lips.

“Well, it’s a little grotesque, I guess…but it’ll have to do!” She clapped her hands impatiently. “Go on, Erk! Bring me back _lots_ of flowers! I’ll be waiting!”

With the smallest of sighs to himself, Erk swept his hood over his head and, spying a small patch of pink among the sea of grass, started on his mission. When his back was turned to Serra, a genuine smile, however slight, crossed his face. She wasn’t _all_ bad, he supposed. Sure, she was self-important and loud and imposed on everyone who crossed her path, but sometimes, her heart managed to fall into the right place. After all, even the thorniest of brambles gave way to sweet blossoms. Sometimes.


End file.
